Bellefonte, Pa., September 18, 1925.
A
THE LAND OF MAGIC.
There's a wonderful land where I go by
myself
Without stirring out of my chair;
I just take a book from the library shelf,
Turn its pages, and presto! I'm there.
In that wonderful country of yesterday,
Where “tomorrow” is always the “now,”
Where the good ship Adventure ig spread-
ing her sails,
‘While the sea-foam breaks white at her
prow.
Where the desert sands burn in the Afri-
can sun.
Where the North shivers under the snow,
Over the mountains and valleys, where
strange rivers run,
With hardy explorers I go.
I share, too, in the magic of fairies and
gnomes;
I have followed the wiys of the seas;
I have studied the fish in their watery
homes,
Aud the bird and the ant and the bee.
I have followed the trail of the first pio-
neers
Over prairie and mountain range;
I have lived with their dangers and shared
in their fears
In a country so new and so strange,
And tLen—just like magic—I'm high in
the air
In a glittering aeroplane!
Swceoping in bird-flight now here and now
there—
Up, up through clouds and the rain!
O ship of adventure! your sails are spread
wide ;
As they fill with the winds of the West;
Restless and swaying, you wait for the
tide .
To bear you away on your quest.
With you I will sail for a year and a day,
To the world’s most unreachable nooks,
For there's nothing to hinder the travel-
er’'s way
Through the
Books!
wonderful Country of
—=St. Nicholas.
THE MAN THAT WAS IN HIM.
(Concluded form last week.)
And there, upon the car top, in the
utter darkness, OI’ Ezram scrawled a
brief message:
Derail us at the first switch—
or wreck sure. We'll jump.
Then, his old hands deft in the
gloom, he tied the message to the
stranger’s shoe with one of the
strings. It was the work of a mo-
ment.
They were silent for a while. Fast-
er and faster they lunged down the
dark. :
“But, man,” cried the stranger in
sudden desperation, “why didn’t we all
get off, back there, and telephone to
the switchman? We're risking our
lives needlessly.” ;
“No foresight, no eye for details,”
Ezram crooned in answer. “Because
we'd ’a’ been three miles or so from
a house, that’s why, and maybe that
house hasn’t a 'phone. Awful desert-
ed, this region. Besides, that train’s
already between the next two towns,
and if we ain't stopped at the first
switch, she’s a goner.”
“And we haven’t got a chance, old
Bzram?”
“Alays.
stranger. A
from a forty-mile train.
are speedir’ up.”
The grade was steeper, now, and
the car roared over the tracks. Now
Ezram stood up, and the wind buffet-
ed him and whistled past his ears. He
laughed a little, but the cracked sound
was lost in the blast. :
He crawled to the edge, then sat
with legs swinging over the side. And
the stranger came and sat down be-
side him. Ezram clutched the shoe.
“How much time have they got to
notify the switchman—after we throw
the shoe?” asked the stranger.
“Depends on how fast we're trav-
elin’. You see, stranger, that switch-
man’s tower is about a half-mile from
the depot but the track’s leveler there.
We throw the shoe, agent reads or-
ders, gets man in switch-tower
through ’phone, he pushes lever—all
finer ’n a fiddle. But he has to work
quick, you see. Just a little while
now.” :
Sitting side by side they waited.
Now they could see the lights of the
town. They rumbled past a crossing,
and a man’s face, beneath an arc light,
showed white. The old man yelled a
greeting.
“Didn’t miss that chap so awful
far,” he remarked. “An’ there’s goin’
to be some smash when she hits that
derailin’ switch.”
“We jump just before that?”
“Any time after we throw the shoe.
And to think that I was sayin "tonight
to myself that I'd wasted my life—
just because I didn’t have no home.
Savin’ a hundred women, maybe—yet
thinkin’ I'd wasted my life. You
never can tell, young ’un, when good
fuck is goin’ to strike.”
“Young ‘un? My hair is gray,
too.”
“Young ‘un side o’ me.
showed yourself a man.”
Both men stood up, for the car was
nearing the half-lighted station. The
car was slowing down a little now, on
a stretch of almost level track. The
younger man swayed a little, and Ez-
ram’s arm steadied him.”
“Now together—whoop!”
And their old throats emitted a yell
that woke the echoes. A lounger in
the almost deserted station rushed to
the door. The next second OI’ Ezram
hurled the shoe. It clattered against
the station wall and dropped to the
ground. Just ag they shot on into the
gloom they saw the man tear out the
note and run into the station.
“Work done, and now it’s time to
jump,” OI’ Ezram breathed.
They walked hand in hand to the
front of the car; then waited a single
instant.
“Run and jump the way we're goin’,
and to one side—and pray for a soft
spot. An’ God bless you, stranger.”
“And God bless you, old man.”
And now they could see the switch
tower.
“Get ready—jump!” And down the
length of the car they darted, their
Allays got a chance,
Just a twelve-foot jump
For we sure
But you've
coat tails flying, and, like strange
birds, they leaped into the air.
Iv
In the door of the station a little
group of men berathed hard as they
waited the roar of the wreck. In a
tower, a half-mile distant, a switch-
man sat with his firm hand still upon
the lever. He was listening too. And
back a hundred yards from the tower,
. two men, one gray of hair and mid-
dle aged, and one old and withered
and tattered, were curiously huddled,
half-buried in the deep, soft sand bank
beside the track.
| “I woyldn’t have been—sure,” the
station agent whispered. “I wouldn’t
“have known what to do, in time, if it
“hadn’t been for that note.”
| Just that instant the switchman
braced himself, for he heard the thun-
| der @f the car. It flung past, a soul-
less Frankenstein, then, with a crash
and a roar that swelled into a bellow,
struck the derailing irons. There was
the snapping of timber and clang of
metal; then a slow settling; then all
.was still. The way was open again
for the Sunset Limited.
The group of men in the station
doorway started; then they wiped the
sweat from streaming faces.
set muscles relaxed.
|
| “Just two dead—instead of two hun- '
i dred,” one of them whispered. “They
! couldn’t have got off alive.”
“Maybe they did. It must have
slowed down some.”
“Yes—but it was going like the
wind. Come!” :
And those that could go started
running down the track toward the
switch tower, their lantern glimmer-
ing.
But OI’ Ezram and the stranger had
not heard the noise of the smash-up.
Their sleep had been too deep for
that. Not a line of their faces told of
fear or pain—anything but realization
of work well done. The dust, flung up
by the wrecked car, settled slowly, but
still they slept. The wind caressed
their white faces, now.
Then Ol’ Ezram opened his eyes.
All was dark at first; he could not see
even the stars. There was a queer
pain in every muscle. He did not
know what had happened or where he
was. He felt very tired * * * so he
closed his eyes again.
Then slowly he remembered—the
swift descent, the leap into darkness,
the shock of falling, the stranger.
What of this stranger? He had jump-
ed, too * * * x
He tried to sit up, and for the first
time became aware of a vicious, stab-
bing pain in his leg below the knee.
But he disregarded it, and peered
about him. Now he could see the
lights of the switch tower.
jumped. Back of him were the sta-
: tion lights and, what looked like ap-
proaching lanterns.
Ezram remembered now that he had
jumped first, so the stranger must be
farther on—toward the switch tower.
He set his lean jaws and began to
search for him. One leg dangled
strangely “* * * * He dug his
hands into the sand, and by strength
of will pulled himself along. Each
movement racked him, his weazened
face was drawn with pain. .
+ Inch by inch and foot by foot—un-
til at last his searching hand encoun-
tered a shoeless foot. He felt along,
and at last touched a cold face. Then
Ol’ Ezram sobbed for the first time,
because he thought that this man who
had fought beside him was dead.
He crawled closer, and lay down be-
side him, and his thin old arm went
round him. He sobbed as if his heart
would break. Then he jerked him-
self together—and listened. For le
heard the faint stirring of a heart.
The man was not dead! His heart
still beat. Ezram laid his head upon
the breast, then cackled in joy. Then
he gently shook him by the shoulders.
The sand bank and the lessened speed
of the car had saved him, too.
“Wake up, stranger,” Ezram beg-
ged. “We done it. Yes, we did.”
He stopped, for the unconscious
man stirred a little.
“Wake up, I say. The track’s clear-
ed and all! them women an’ children
are saved. Here she comes, ding bust
her! Here she comes now. Wake up
and see her, son!” :
And soon he did waken. He heard
a kind, though cracked voice in his
ears at first—then the roar of the
Sunset Limited on the track in front.
And by the time the train had passed
he remembered all. -
“And you're not hurt?” he asked in
wonder, when silence descended again.
“Not to speak of. Leg busted, may-
be. And you?”
“Bruised a bit, that’s all.” He stir-
red, and felt himself. “We lit on a
soft bank. Oh, Ezram, Old Ezram,
what a man you are!”
“You're quite a guy yourself, since
we're havin’ congraulations. And to
think—I don’t even know your name
et.”
y “My name is John Austin.”
John—John Austin, eh? Same as
“The man himself, Old Ez, the man
himself! With all the power in the
world to give OI’ Ezram what he has
failed to find in life.”
“Not John Austin,
builder!”
“The identical person, old man—
you, who haven’t any haven, you,
whose promised land was just in
front! Ezram, you've reached the end
of the road at last.”
“What do ye mean? You don’t
mean—1?” The old voice quavered.
“] mean that you’ve done your
work, and are ready for your rest.
Listen, Ezram. I’ve got a big country
place, back East. And I need some
old man to sit around—in the sun—
and smoke his pipe and see that my
gardens are growing right. Some one
to tell stories to my d-kids, when
they're big enough. There’s a little
house round to the back of mine, with
a fireplace in it, and plenty of fuel
handy—and a real bed, not a nest of
straw. We go to the hospital first,
on account of that leg; then will you
come back with me and take that
job?”
Just as soldiers, administering with
fumbling hands to one another on the
field of honor forget their own inju-
ries, these two elderly men in the sand
bank had forgotten theirs. Austin
trembled with joyous emotion as he
the railway
Their :
They had :
been heading for it when they had |
spoke.
: of them railway king and vagrant;
| they were just two old men who had
: fought side by side, and whose mettle
had been proven true. They were
| companions now—forever.
“Will 1?” the answer came. The
weak old eyes filled and flooded. “Will
I? Oh, John Austin! I'm goin’ to
wake up this instant, sure as I'm
born.” And his old throat swelled, so
that he was unable to speak.
“And incidentally,” continued the
railway builder in the same exalted
voice, “I’ll pass the word along to the
| heads. of several lines that I control
that the brakies are not to be quite so
hard on the brotherhood of ‘boes’.”
Then he turned, for he heard feet on
the track. “And here come men with
lanterns, searching for us.”
Though not in his own words, this
is the story that John Austin related
to his guests at his country home that
late summer afternoon. Their cigars
were white heaps of ashes when he
had finished.
. “If I had ever been a snob,” he con-
cluded, “that night with OI’ Ezram
would have taken it out of me. And
i would you like to see him—as he is
now?”
The young men thought they would,
so John Austin led them down from
the porch to the green lawns. He
toed softly abeut the great house. The
others followed, wondering. They
stopped before a high hedge.and peer-
ed through. :
In the center of a sweep of lawn
was a cane chair that at a glance pro-
claimed its capacity for administering
comfort. In it sat an ancient man.
The setting sun cast its last ruddy
glow upon his cheery face. He held
a pipe, an old brier, between his lips,
and its blue veil hung -caressingly
about his white head. Two children,
Austin’s grand-children, were stand-
ing beside him, looking up with some-
thing akin to adoration in their youtk-
ful eyes.
“Tell ye a story, eh?” the old man
was saying. “Such kids I never cee.
Well, once upon a time * * *»
Just then the wail of a far-off
freight came tingling through the still
summer air. The old man started and
sat erect. Just for an instant a gray
film came over his eyes, and he sat
dreaming. Then he sucked in a
breath of smoke, drew it far into his
vitals, and breathed it slowly out. His
eyes grew bright again, and he chuck-
led to himself in absolute content.
“Yes, Uncle Ez,” urged one of his
young listeners.
“Well, one time there was a little
yaller-haired gal, and her name was
Goldie-Lock * * *»
And here we may leave OI’ Ezram,
.in his haven at last, floating out very
i
| quietly and joyfully on the mild ebb-
tide of life—By Edison Marshall, in
“The American Magazine.
THE PLEASING VOICE.
At no period of our existence does
to win an audience and respect.
There is a compelling charm in its
accent, its deliberate sweetness and
enunciation which is well-nigh irre-
| sistible, whether it praises or con-
demns—a carrying, impressive quality
which sways the hearers at will.
and women in their oral intercourse
less.
They have a few set words and
phrases which go round and round
their dial
hands of the clock, incapable of do-
ing anything else, or of striking a
single new pleasurable emotion.
Such voices narrow and dampen
the spirit of expectant hearers until
they wish they could go suddenly deaf
or vanish in the air.
Whether the rasping discords come
from the lips of vestals or scullions,
the effect produced is always “creepy”
and depressing to the refined.
And this would seem to show the
importance of a pleasing voice at the
fireside, the desk, behind the counter,
everywhere, in fact where tired ears
are pausing on tip-toe for a soothing
sound to assuage their pent-up nerv-
ousness.
If you would succeed beyond the
mediocre, you will find that it be-
hooves you to cultivate the pleasing
voice, not one that is marked by af-
fectation, but by sweet soul-strains at-
tuned to discriminating and delicately
adjusted ears accustomed to pure ac-
cent and undue emphasis.
Nothing is more destructive to a
salesman’s success than a loud, coarse
and brazen enunciation, with a touch
of authoritative command in every
vowel and aspirate.
And this applies not only to the
salesman but to every man and wom-
an in all walks of life, and especially
to those who are dependent on others
for a livelihood.
The discriminating employer natur-
ally gives preference to him or her
who habitually uses a pleasing voice
in company with a kindly smile and
courteous manners, in all kinds of
weather and in all sorts of business.
The Test.
A gray old practitioner of the type
of the last generation, who is the offi-
cial physician of the school of a near-
by town, was examining the pupils re-
cently.
With watch in hand he gripped the
slender wrist of a little girl under test.
“Hear that?” he asked, holding the
timepiece at arm’s length.
“No, sir,” came the timid reply.
“Hear that?” he repeated, bringing
it slightly nearer.
This was too much for the frighten-
ed kiddie, and she didn’t reply.
The doctor brought the watch near-
er and nearer, with no better results,
then finally, he jammed it up against
her ear.
“Now, don’t you hear that?” he
asked.
There was the same monosyllabic
reply and with an air of deep disgust
the old man held the watch to his own
ear, exclaiming:
“Gosh, the old thing isn’t going!”
—————————p el meeeem——
—Get your jb work done here.
The revelation had not made
touched his finger to his lips, then tip-
the pleasing voice with its musical in- !
tonations and lucid articulations fail
And yet with all the subtle power .
invested in the organs of speech, men
with one another are habitually care-
of conversation like the!
TREES ADD GREATLY
| TO BEAUTY OF ROAD.
| Apparently the early custom of
roadside tree planting in America has
been forgotten. In the constant ef-
fort to keep pace with the ever-grow-
ing demands of the autoist for more
{ and better roads, there has been little
{time or money for the planting and
care of trees along the roads.
If trees were planted and maintain-
ed under ideal conditions and were not
i subject to injuries and disease, they
| would continue to thrive for years.
| But these conditions are not possible
‘among a community of trees that are
haturally subject to natural enemies,
| such as wind-storms, insect pests, and
fungous diseases. All these things
I must be overcome if the trees are to
| be saved. In saving the shade trees
‘cement plays an important role.
Early in the present century the
rapid diminution of the natural for-
ests and the astounding mortality of
the native fruit and shade trees
prompted a study of preventive meas-
ures. In this work the late John Da-
vey was the pioneer who, through long
experiment work, evoived the hasic
principles of modern tree surgery.
And a.though John Davey tried all
sorts of material, he found nothing so
effective as cement for filling cavitics.
Today it is still without an equal.
One of the mest important princi-
ples in modern tree surgery is that
bark and sapwood will eventually grow
over filied cavities. Ti.e decay that
‘hes started to eat the heart out of
many fine trees can be cut away by
the skillful tree surgeon. The cavity
can be properly treated and filled, and
the life of the tree preserved.
i Having learned this fact, however,
many an ill-advised person has start-
ed the treatment without understand-
ing that success can be obtained only
by observing certain precautions. In
the first place, the cavity must be
properly prepared, just as a decayed
tooth must be properly prepared be-
fore filling. Decaying wood or fun-
gus growth left in the tree under the
filling will cause decay to continue.
Hence the cavity must be treated with
a fungicide and a waterproof coat,
preferably of a pine-tar base. If the
. cavity is large the filling must be so
| placed as to provide for the swaying
. of the trunk or branches.
!{ When a cavity is properly filled it
| is easily made waterproof, and repeat-
ied investigations have proved that
{ there is no reinfection behind a fill-
! ing when it is properly made.
i
Light on Biblical Authorship
An Egyptian tomb in western
Thebes, it is said, has furnished evi-
dence that the writer of the Book of
Proverbs is indebted for some of his
passages to an Egyptian named Amen-
emopel, who, according to records,
lived hundreds of years earlier than
the Bible author. A comparison of
the two passages. referred to follows
that of Proverbs 1: ‘“Inciine thy ears
and hear the words of wisdom and
apply thy breast to’ my knowledge.
For it is pleasant if thou keep them in
thy breast; if they are ready, all of
them on thy tongue.” “Incline thy
. ears and hear my words and apply thy
i heart thereto to understand them.
Good is it if thou dost set them in thy
heart, but woe to him who trans-
gresses them. Let them rest in thy
breast, that they may be a key to thy
| heart. So may they be the key to thy
tongue.”—Family Herald.
i
Her Affliction
Little Millie had achieved great suc-
‘cess at her school, and wus being
moved to a higher grade. Needless to
, say, her parents were pleased with
her and anxious to hear how she
! would get on in the new class.
When she returned home at lunch
i time the first questiez her mother
asked was this:
“Well, darling,” she said, “how did
you like your new teacher?”
“She seems very nice,” replied Mil-
lie, “but I can’t understand all she
says.”
“How {is that?” asked her mother.
“Does she talk too quietly?”
“Oh, no, mummy,” returned Millie,
“but”—with the air of one who knows
—*I think she’s got a predicament in
her speech.”
Monk Man of Learning
The epithet “Admirable Doctor” was
oestowed upon Roger Bacon (1214-
1292), an English monk of the Fran-
ciscan order. He was without doubt
the greatest philosopher of his time.
His great work, the Opus Majus, was
written about 1265, and first printed in
1783. It treats of nearly all the
sciences. He was accused of practic-
ing black magic; and in 1278 a council
of the Franciscans, jealous of his su-
periority, condemned his writings and
committed him to prison in Paris,
where he remained for ten years. He
died at Oxford about 1292. —Kansas
City Times.
No Dust-Free Air
Dust-free air does not exist any-
where In nature, though it can be ob-
talned by certain filtering devices in
the laboratory, says Nature Magazine.
From the earth's surface up to regions
far above the highest clouds every
cubic inch of air contains dustmotes.
Near the earth the dust is mostly
blown up from the sofl by the winds.
Far aloft the millions of meteors that
enter the earth’s atmosphere: every
day contribute their quota of fine solid
matter. Lastly, every great explosive
volcanic eruption spouts up enormous
quantities of dust to great heights.
Limit to Her Anger
“So the engagement Is off?”
“Yes. She was so indignant when
she heard about what he'd done that
she tore off her engagement ring and
flung It onto her right hand.”
Would-Be Librarians
Not “Up” in History
Nearly thirty persons, some of them
college graduates. avvlied for a certain
position in the Cincinnati public I-
brary, but only eight scored a passing
mark in the examination.
The Pathfinder's poetry machine
and its relation to poetic licenses must
have been uppermost in the mind for
the candidate who said that one of
the grants of high office bestowed on
a poet laureate was “certain privi-
leges called poetic license.”
Another candidate defined Sleepy
Hollow as a “hollow in Kentucky that
has become the setting of severs’
books.”
Marco Polo, according to one, “was
the first man to try and reach the
North pole.”
“Pefore’ the break with England.
Henry Clay uttered those Immortal
words, ‘Give me liberty or give me
death.’™ wrote another.
Madame Curie was credited with
being founder of the Christian Science
church “Robinsen Crusoe” was said
to have Leen the work of Robert
Louis Steven: on.
The handwriting on the wall, to one
young woman, referred to the last
supper
A yvonug man said Christ was tried
before Ananius. — Pathfinder Maga-
“ine.
Lotteries Have Firm
Hold on All Italians
The national sport of Italy is the
lottery. It is the popular sport of all
classes. There are many kinds of lot-
teries, but the one wh'ch seems to hold
the popular favor is the weekly one.
The charm of this weekly lottery lies
in the fact that the buyer of a ticket
can play a hunch. Since all Italians
are superstitious, it is only natural
that each has a particular “hunch” on
the winning numbers in the lottery.
The eight largest cities in the king-
dom are listed and after each city five
numbers appear. Should anyone have
an idea that Napies would draw 4, 18,
87, 84, 52, it is simplicity itself to back
your hunch. You simply walk into an
agency and write your own ticket. The
numbers do not have to be arranged
in the same sequence as drawn. For
example. in the case above cited if
the purchaser had selected the num-
bers in inverse order or in any other
order he would still win the maximum
purse.—Detroit News.
Tested Patrons’ Hospitclity
Stepping into a taxicab the other
day, says the Paris Intransiyeant, a
fare discovered a package of cl.oco
late lying on the seat. Without hesi-
tation he put it in his pocket. paid the
chauffeur, adding a good poeurboire.
and was about to depart when the
driver called out: “What ahout my
chocolate?” .
“Your chocolate?” queried the client.
greatly taken aback. Then the chauf-
feur explained that he was testing the
honesty of his fares, and of eleven
whom he had carried that mornin:
only two had informed him that
package of chocolate was lying on the
seat. The two honest folk were a ser-
geant leaving for Morocco and a mil- |
liner's messenger girl. “Honest peo-
ple are scarce,” said the philosophic
chauffeur. :
Can’t All Be Vegetarians
i'here is one very good reason why
~e cannot all be vegetarians, even if
we would. In the first place there are
not enough vegetables in the world tc
feed everybody, and in the second
place there is not enough land on
which to grow vegetables, Meat Is con:
centrated vegetable food. Again. we
must have leather. wool, feathers
horn, ivory, fur, kid, hides, hair, etc..
and to get these usually means the
death of the animals. So, we put our
coverings outside, and their flesh in
side. Vegetarianism is good enough
for poets, artists and preachers, bui
the strenuous, virile, fighting, aggres
slve man requires meat.—Beauty.
Unexpected Pleasure
One side of the famous Devil's glen
was open to the public; the other side
was kept strictly private by the land-
lord.
An American visitor, ignoring the
notice boards, was walking up the pri-
vate side of the glen when he was
met by a choleric old gentleman, who
shouted: “What do you mean, sir, by
trespassing on my property?”
“Great Scott!” replied the American,
_ “I knew this was the Devil's glen, but
I never expected to meet the pro-
prietor !I”—London Mail.
Point Moral Lesson
“Little Apes of Nikko,” sometimes
known as the “Three Wise Monkeys,”
is the name of monkeys which appear
in a mural decoration among ancient
tombs at Nikko, Japan. The three
monkeys are as follows: Mizaru, whe
sees no evil; Mikazaru, who hears no
evil, and Mazaru, who speaks no evil.
The legend connected with these mon-
keys is simply a moral idea to point
out the wisdom of minding one’s own
affairs,
Lightning in Forests
When lightning strikes a tree the
ordinary result is to splinter the wood
or strip off bark through the sudden
generation of steam, says Nature
Magazine. In the great majority ot
cases the tree is not set on fire. Nev.
ertheless the aggregate number of for
est fires started by lightning is. In
many parts of the country, greate:
than the number due to all othe:
causes c¢embined.
a :
SHARPEST BLADES NEVER CUT.
No matter how sharp a blade may
be it never -actually cuts anything.
When, for instance, a blade passes
through a loaf of bread it parts the
bread, but it does not cut or destroy
the particles which make up the loaf.
All the blade does is to separate the
atoms, to push the tiny things aside
and pass on to the next.
An atom is such a wee thing that it
cannot be distinctly seen even through
the strongest microscope. The only
way to see an atom is to look ata
mass of atoms under a glass because
the actual individual atoms are too
small to be seen.
The head of a pin contains so many
minute pieces that it would take an
expert an hour to write down enough
figures to represent the number of
atoms. Atoms cannot be actually cut
or destroyed, they are too small. They
are never destroyed. When you burn
a log of wood you apparently destroy
it, and so you do, you destroy the log,
but you do not injure the atoms which
remain as they were, although sepa-
rated into smoke, gases and ashes.
The individual atoms are there just as
they were befo: e, but they do not cling
to each other because the heat has
torn them more or less apart.
Atoms are round and they escape by
rolling away from danger. They are
like the seeds of the melon. Press
them and they slip away and save
themselves. Atoms are attracted to
each other by something of which we
know nothing, although the attraction
is supposed to. be elettric magnetism.
These tiny things roll to and against
each other and stick tegether by the
billion so that in the end they form
one particle, then a number of these
particles roll together in turn, and sc
on and on until they become a large
mass, and in the end the billions of
masses form a loaf of bread.
Atoms stick to each other, not be-
cause they are “sticky,” but because
each one is a magnet.
To see magnetic atoms in action
push a toy magnet slowly toward a
pinch of steel filings on a piece of
glass. Watch them collect. Look
very carefully and you will see the
particles roll up to the magnet, push
each other to one side and cling to the
mother magnet. Such particles as are
unable to crowd between the more for-
tunate ones and thus reach the mother
magnet do the next best thing, they
cling to the fortunate ones.
This constant struggling may be
seen very easily if the particles of
steel are long and thin like tiny nee-
dles. The first one to reach the moth-
er magnet will spread his entire
length on her but the newcomers push
them up on end, squeeze in between
and eventually you will see all the
pieces of steel standing on their heads.
i A loaf of bread is merely a collec-
' tion of round atoms which have mag-
netized each other into larger balls
known as cells. The loaf is therefore
nothing but a bunch of round balls.
In passing through the bread the
blade pushes aside these billions and
billions of balls and goes on its way.
The sharp blades push the balls aside
easier because the sharp edge can get
easily between the spaces made by the
balls. . Dull blades do not “cut” well
because their edges are wide and they
have to push aside many times more
balls than do the slim blades.
When you swim through the water
you push aside so many atoms that all
the figures in the world could not
number them.
When you stick a shovel into a heap
of mustard seeds you are doing exact-
ly what the blade does to the atoms.
|
Billion Dollars Yearly on Highways
i is Planned.
! Ten years ago the idea that the
' United States would spend a billion
dollars annually on highways would
have been regarded as preposterous,
just as preposterous, perhaps, as the
idea that the country some day would
have one motor vehicle for about
every six persons.
The United States bureau of roads
estimates that this year the States
will invest more than $400,000,000 in
highways, and the counties an even
| larger amount, while about $135,000,-
{ 000 will be spent by state departments
iin maintenance. The explanation of
‘ this condition is found largely in the
‘fact that there are now more than
17,500,000 motor vehicles in the coun-
try. The motor car has helped to
bring the roads and it is furnishing no
small part in the cost of them, con-
tributing for that purpcse nearly
- $200,000,000 in license fees alone and
still other millions in the form of gas-
oline taxes.
It is a day of big figures, big op-
erations and big prospects in the mo-
tor vehicle and highway field. The
benefit of this development is beyond
calculation. It is another era of prog-
ress for America, comparable to the
era of immense expansion by the rail-
roads half a centry ago, but without
the excesses of that earlier period.
Those who have believed that the days
of great expansion in America ended
with the opening of the west and the
building of railroads, telegraph and
telephone lines should consider the
transformation of the country being
wrought today by the motor vehicle
and the paved highway.
——Clark Turner, who lives in the
State of Washington, is conducting a
unique industry—he supplies lady-
bugs to orchardists. According to a
news dispatch, Turner has sold nearly
38,000,000 of the insects this year. He
gathers them from the crevices in the
Cascade mountains where they are
numerous. They are distributed in
the orchard about 100 to an acre.
Since they breed several times a year
they multiply rapidly and soon de-
stroy many enemies to fruit trees,
such as the green and wooly aphids,
peach twee lice and other pests.
Bragging.
Wife—“My husband has no habits.
He never drinks, and he spends all his
evenings at home. Why, he doesn’t
even belong to a club.”
Friend—“Does he smoke?”
“Only in moderation. He likes a
cigar after he has had a good dinner,
but I don’t suppose he smokes two ci-
gars a month.”—Tit Bits.